Intertwined
by antomato
Summary: They're tangled together, and that's just how they like it. Close and intimate, connected, intertwined. Their legs are knotted together and you can't tell where one starts or the other ends. England/Spain smut.


**A/N: **heeeey gys!  
i haven't written in a while, so have some fluffy sex u v u  
this is just a little drabble though; in preparation for writing more smut in the future haha  
i hope to have more stories up soon! enjoy the smut c:

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They're tangled together, and that's just how they like it. Close and intimate, connected, intertwined. Their legs are knotted together and you can't tell where one starts or the other ends; skin is pressed flush against naked skin, warm and soft like youthful summers is the Spaniard, while his lover's skin is cool and calming, soothing to the busy, over-worked senses.

Arthur is peace of mind, Antonio thinks. He's dedicated and loyal, hardworking, but he holds pride in himself which he admires, because his island lover is strong yet so soft and gentle when his fingers run down the dip of his spine to ever so lightly glide over his bronze skin. He's like a glass of water; Antonio is so warm and his homeland is scion to the sun, so something like his little rainy Briton is so fresh and welcomed. He doesn't protest when Arthur pressed cool kisses to his cheeks, or when his soothing, soft hands messaged his body. He's refreshing, soothing, and it's his gentleman that quenches what he aches for, what he needs.

Antonio's breath is coming out in short puffs as his lover moves above him, adorning the object of his affection with every intimate touch he can muster. Their lips slid together softly and gently, connecting with one another as their bodies move as one. The Spaniard is reluctant to let his sounds leave his lips, afraid that the wind will steal them from him, steal him from the both of them, but it's difficult with the kisses and nips and bites that leave marks on his dark skin. He squeezes his eyes shut, hands knotting into the sheets as the Englishman rolls so that he's straddled in between the other's knees. Arthur moves quickly, eager to spoil Antonio with affection and to please him; his hands gently and sensually stroke his thighs, kisses falling from his jaw to his neck where the Briton proceeds to leave his mark. Antonio is his, and his alone; his beautiful, daring prince. He wants to hear those sweet noises, those quiet and timid noises that show signs of his bliss, but Antonio is stubborn, and neither does the island nation wish for their intimacies to be taken from them.

They re both rather selfish.

Their bodies are drenched in warmth and fluids, sweat rolling down their flushed skin as they move frequently and desperately against each other. They want to soak in the moment, drain it and take from it as much as they can and to become fully drowned in the other. Antonio's sure their bodies couldn't possibly become any closer to one another as the Briton moves in and out, his palms squeezing the other's hips as he grits his teeth and turns his eyes downward. They're both filled to the brim with such wanton desire and passion, he's sure that no other could understand such intimacies. Moans and incoherent words are slipping from Antonio's lips like water, soaking the air around them in their pleasure and love for one another that it's almost suffocating, but the Englishman continues because he wished to please his lover, wishes to drive him over the edge and make Antonio needy and weak for him. His movements are deep and long, sensual in only ways they know please them, and he continues to rock his hips and to press into his lover so that he's nothing but a blubbering mess.

Desperately, Antonio wraps his arms around the other's neck, his nails clawing and scrapping against the soft flesh of Arthur's shoulders while their pleasures rise to their peak. The Spaniard is crying out now, asking, pleading, begging to be submerged in naught but the Briton's entity. Arthur complies, his lips pressing kisses to the other's skin and moving to his open, panting mouth. He adores how soft his lips have stayed, how warm and swollen they are from the constant kisses the two of them so desperately share. The Englishman is pressing himself into the Spaniard below while Antonio moves to meet his own actions, moans and groans falling from those swollen lips that Arthur can t help but stare at. He basks in the site of Antonio before him; how flushed and red his skin is against his own, the sounds of his moans that filled his ears, how his eyes were closed tightly and his brow upturned in a sight of pure bliss and pleasure. A shiver runs down the Briton's spine as he continued to stare and run his hands over the tanned body below him, because Antonio is weak and mewling with desperation because of his doing and the thought drives him wild.

He quickens the pace once more, and his actions are met with a near-scream. They're breaths mingle together in short puffs while they messily exchange faint kisses in their actions of love-making. The Spaniard coaxes him on, his words coming out in mixed tongues as he pressures Arthur to drive himself into that one spot that makes his vision turn white. His knees and ankles are locked behind the Brit's back, pulling him closer while his fingers grapple and grope against the slick skin of his back and shoulders, tossing his head back as he cries out again. His back rises off the thick, plush mattress below them and the Spanish nation let a long moan of "_Arthur!_" fall from his aching lips, falling back onto the sheets and panting in exhaustion as the Briton rides out their pleasure.

It's several long moments before either moves, basking in the afterglow of their actions. Gently, the Englishman pulls away from his lover, a muffled groan leaving his throat as he falls onto the messy sheets beside Antonio. The Spaniard is still exhausted from their endeavors; his chest rising and falling sharply until his breathing retains it's natural flow, meanwhile Arthur is wrapping an arm around his torso and peppering kisses to his temple and whispering sweet nothings into his reddened ears. Eventually, Antonio responds and shifts his exhausted body, burying his face against the Briton's pale chest while the blond strokes the groove in his back, a content smile pressed to his lips. Antonio always was rather cuddly after their activities, but he doesn't mind, because he always gives himself up to Arthur in a way only they share. His pale fingers run through the Spaniard's drenched locks, humming until he can feel the other's breathing even out as he drifts into a deep sleep.

"_I love you._" his voice is a soft whisper, and Arthur presses one last kiss to the Spaniard's forehead before settling down into his own gentle, peaceful sleep.


End file.
